Tuesday, February 25, 2014

I'm Stupid. At Least That's What I Thought

                I’m stupid. At least that’s what I thought for the first half of my life; before I realized that I really did have half a brain and that I just thought differently. Please refrain from comment.
               
While growing up I was blessed with two sisters who were both very smart. Neither had to really study and one was even offered the option of passing up a grade. I had to study… a LOT. My precious mother would put spelling words to music for me so I could remember them. I would put vocabulary words and definitions to a rhyme, anything that would help me remember them. I’m not saying now that I think I was stupid, I’m saying that when you grow up thinking differently than everyone else, you feel that way.

                I’m being very candid about something I’ve never talked about before. If you know me, this is nothing new to you. If you are my mother I’ll go ahead and say this is not your fault and had nothing to do with you (that gets you out of reading this…. You’re welcome).

                Going to school in the 70’s and 80’s was torture. I learned at a very young age that when I zoned out it was much better to try to catch up by myself than to raise my hand and ask the teacher to repeat herself and risk being berated for not listening. I would often miss out on what everyone else seemed to get so easily and if I dared ask my neighbor, I was then in trouble for talking (not that I didn’t get in trouble for that anyway, but you get the point). I never, ever remember being taught what consonants were. Seriously. I knew my vowels, but I remember the day the word “consonants” was sprung on me and everyone else knew what that was and I froze.

                I thought I was stupid. I would get horrifically embarrassed. I would get sick. I missed so many days my 4th grade school year I wasn’t sure I would even pass that grade. The teacher that I had that year made things worse by picking the scab off my weaknesses in front of the class and I swore if I ever taught I would never do that to a child, ever! I forgot things, missed things; my report card said I was in space, and I was called lazy. If you know me at all, you know that I am a far cry from lazy, unless I damn well feel like it which is about two times a year.

                In high school I had an algebra teacher (a coach, by the way) who was showing us an algebraic equation on the board. I took my paper up to him and very cautiously said “I don’t understand…” He said “You just plug it in! The formula… just plug it in!” It made no sense to me. I saw numbers and letters and lines. I’m not dyslexic that I know, but I sure couldn’t plug that in. Many, MANY things I could solve in my head but could not for the life of me tell my teachers how I did it. I could figure out puzzles, solve problems, etc. and do many things but had no explanation for how I could do it. “It just makes sense” was the best explanation I could give. I never cheated, I just learned what worked.

                High School Psychology. MY SAVING GRACE! I loved it! I read it, ate it, drank it! “Really???” you ask. “Really!!!” I say. You see, when someone who is severely ADD finds something that interests them, they hyper focus on it. I absolutely loved psychology. I still do. I love the brain and how it works. Maybe you are starting to see why.

                I always wanted to be a child psychologist and got about as close to that as I can, being a school counselor, while having the schedule I love and not traumatizing my own two kids by staying in school longer than I had to (Mary Abbott, you’re welcome).

                When I was starting graduate school in my late 30’s, for reasons in addition to grad school, I went to a psychologist to be tested for adult ADD. Do you remember the commercial where the woman is trying to conduct a business meeting and all these crazy things are going through her head? That’s me. All the time. For my entire life. Anyway, I go to a reputable Dr. and through the testing. Result time comes and Dr. Orvis (He looked like he hopped out of an Orvis catalog, so that’s what I named him. He doesn’t know that) asks if I have ever had head trauma (does falling out of a treehouse when you’re 4 yrs. old count? Yes, it does) or sleep disorder because that is the lower part of the bell curve in which I fell. There are other areas of another quadrant involved, but needless to say, I was mortified. He said it was amazing that I had come so far in life with such ADD, and that I “must be really intelligent” (seriously, his words, not mine). I left in tears and…. I called Momma. Mom, love her skin, said, “What is that Dr’s name? I’m gonna call him!” I had to reassure her that I was fine and she does not, indeed, need to call the psychologist.

                Why am I telling you this? If you work with children, you have no idea what’s going on inside of their mind. I can’t tell you what I learned in 1st grade but I can very distinctly tell you what the frog bulletin board that read “Hop Into Spring” looked like… to the right of my desk in the next to last row… yes, in 1st grade. I can give you details upon details upon details of things that may or may not matter but I have a hard time scheduling out a day without sticky notes.  Maybe you have had this go on with you and felt like you were alone. When we were growing up the labels were so harsh and cruel really. I’m telling you because when we look at children or work with children we think their lives are so carefree. They aren’t. They are struggling with things they don’t want to tell anyone. They don’t want to raise their hand to ask teachers to repeat themselves because they are terrified of being called out and berated. Students really do forget things because that is a classic sign of ADD, not that they don’t care. And it’s not just ADD, many, MANY  disorders have so many signs… do you know what they are? However, they can actually be a plus for children because it makes them learn to think differently. It wasn’t until I went back to graduate school that I realized I wasn’t stupid. I have no idea what my IQ is. It may be low, it may be high. It doesn’t matter and I don’t want to know. I know what comes easily for me and I know how I learn best. I also have empathy for children who learn differently, creatively, more efficiently even.

                I actually had a person I worked for at the time tell me I shouldn’t tell anyone about this because people might make fun of me. Well, to hell with you! People need to know that we all struggle with something and it doesn’t necessarily go away. Kids struggle, adults struggle, we need to try to understand each other. There is no “One way is the right way” when it comes to teaching and/or learning. We need to have compassion and empathy for our children and other adults as well. I get so angry when I hear teachers make comments about kids “pulling one over on me” or “playing it up”. How do you know what a kid is going through? You don’t! I know that you don’t because it’s been over 35 years that I realized I was very different and I assure you, there are people who had no clue. Try a little compassion, a little empathy.

                What is your goal for your child? For yourself? Success? Then don’t argue if it’s done differently than what you would do. Allow for differences, allow for mistakes. We are different. I for one, am really glad. I wouldn’t change a thing. Seriously. Just wanted to share.  And if this saves one person from feeling stupid, it was very much worth coming out of the stupid closet. Hope this helps someone out there.

Look, a squirrel,
Becky

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